White Whale
by chezchuckles
Summary: Fluff Friday and National Poetry Month. "Could I concentrate/ on anything but your leg against mine /under the table?" -Marilyn Hacker, Runaways Cafe II; Set sometime after Still.


**White Whale**

* * *

Could I concentrate  
on anything but your leg against mine  
under the table? It was difficult,  
but I impersonated an adult  
looking at you, and knocking back the wine.  
Now that we both want to know what we want,  
now that we both want to know what we know,  
it still behooves us to know what to do:  
be circumspect, be generous, be brave,  
be honest, be together, and behave.

-Marilyn Hacker, Runaways Cafe II

* * *

_Be Circumspect_

Kate presses her lips into a line and allows the bare bones of a smile to structure her face. Rick touches his fingertips to her elbow, as if in guide, and she follows the hostess through the restaurant with her partner at her back.

But not for long.

He knows too many people here, and they call his name and half-rise from their tables to shake his hand, wanting a bit of that reflected glory. She stands just ahead of him, off to one side, even as he introduces a friend or an agent, an actress, an entrepreneur, an event planner, a charity-gala auctioneer. A carousel of powerful and wealthy associates, some of whom probably make up Castle's 'I have a guy' rolodex, but none of them are given her name in return.

She hoped to stay under the radar tonight, but that might be impossible. Still, he's maneuvering like an expert.

It's their first date out, for real, now that Gates has given them a roll of her eyes and _of course I know what's going on in my precinct_. Kate isn't looking to make a stir, but she finds herself standing taller, shoulders straighter, her lips turning upward instead of her usual reserve.

She's proud of him, of having his hand at her back as he pats a man's shoulder in camaraderie, as he air kisses the woman's cheek in greeting. Always orienting himself towards Kate, and not any of the rest of this.

The hostess waits patiently for them - she's a professional and this is a very nice place (Castle was so excited about bringing her here, about the elegance and wealth he could spend on her) - and Kate tugs only softly on Rick's jacket sleeve in reminder.

He leaves the table with a low promise of _later, yes, we'll talk business_ and she doesn't quite listen, still not yet on an even keel in his waters. It will come, and she has no doubt of that tonight, but they are from different worlds. She has time and he has the entirely generous attitude that anything can be achieved.

His palm is warm at her back, and the dress shivers under his touch, and she sees the way his eyes work the room and come back to her, his charming smile and handsome face and the carefully-arranged public presentation. She used to be taken in by that - the put-together Richard Castle persona - but she knows better now, and beneath the surface of all that charisma, she finds her partner.

He's a little nervous and his eyes keep seeking hers and everything about him is immaculate, which means he spent too much time this evening in front of his mirror, worrying about making their date perfect. His tie is brilliant purple, and he knows that's her favorite color.

Well, she wore the dress he's never seen before and he seems to really love seeing it now.

She won't risk cupping his face in her hands and kissing him dizzy - though she wants to - not in the restaurant with all these people who might cheerfully stab them in the back or sell them out - but she does reach out and tangle their fingers for a moment, squeezing until his posture relaxes just an inch.

_Be Generous_

Their hostess shows them to a semi-private table set into one of many alcoves off the main room, and Castle pulls out her chair for her like a gentleman. When Kate sits down, he caresses the bare skin at her shoulders, sweeping aside the wave of her hair, and lowers his head to kiss her nape.

She lets out a breath, a slight shiver going down her spine. She knows he loves that - the tiny indication of how much he's affecting her. He's pleased with her, and so she gives him the chance to see it. How he gets to her.

He's all burning intensity and love in his eyes, and then he grins and sits down in his own chair. The table is intimate, and his knees brush hers as he gets situated, but her leg seeks his out purposefully, pressing into him, and she can practically see the blood flush in his face, just at having her near.

She wonders if he asked the restaurant to arrange their table this way, sitting practically side by side. The chairs are pushed up right against the curve of the wall, and there's no room on the other side of the table or else they'd be in the aisle, so close is what they get.

She can't help liking it, pleased he either asked for it like this or asked for this table for that very reason. He likes to touch, and she likes, definitely, to have him touching.

He's about to lean in - probably to say something suggestive - when a voice rings out in the restaurant. "Oh, Ricky!"

Castle winces, but she sees him quickly draw on his game face as he turns to acknowledge the woman coming through the tables towards them, waving her hand at Rick as if anyone could possibly miss her approach.

Her partner rises from the table, always polite, and takes the woman's hand with a cheek-kiss as she simpers a little and flushes, her eyes darting to Kate and back to him.

"Ricky, how good to see you again!"

His own response is an undertone, a quiet intended to make the woman lower her own voice, but it doesn't work.

"I haven't heard from you in ages, and now I see why, _hi_, you must be...?" The woman is offering both hands, as if Kate is supposed to know what to do with that, but she reaches out and clasps them both, gets that limp, clammy touch that Kate abhors.

She doesn't offer her name. She and Castle agreed on that part. Nothing yet. Even if the precinct is fine right now, it does no one any good to be flashy about it.

Castle is already diverting the woman's attention, something about horses, which seems a surprising topic, but at least Kate is left out of it. The waiter is at a discreet distance, the woman is being handled, and Kate is allowed to remain in the background.

She wasn't sure it could be done, but Castle is very very good at this.

Suddenly, she's certain they'll come out of this night more than just unscathed.

_Be Brave_

When he's able to sit down again, he gives her a flushed, unhappy look. "I'm sorry. She's - an old friend. She helped me out a lot when Alexis was little."

"Oh?"

"Not like that," he mutters.

Kate laughs softly. "No, Rick, that's not how I took it." He never offers anything of substance about his personal life; he throws out facts like they're jokes, something to be laughed at, his mother, his childhood, his writing, and she has to fish out the truth from between the embellishments for effect.

He shrugs, as if to go on. "Well, she has a horse ranch just upstate. If we're ever in the area, she says..."

She knows he means, if we're ever public enough, if we can take trips together and not care if page Six happens to follow. Kate reaches out and unsubtly takes his hand, squeezing.

"It would be nice," she assures him. She hopes it's not _reassurance_, that he knows they'll get there. She needs him to know that, needs his unwavering optimism when it comes to them. "How did she help you with Alexis?"

"She has two girls of her own. She's been a widow for a long time," he shrugs. "I think she married up - money and age both." He flushes and frowns at her. "Don't even think it."

She laughs, a little harder this time, feeling it catch her by surprise. "I wasn't." Marrying up, money and age, and yes it fits them, and if he's thinking about it, rather unconsciously it seems, she doesn't mind letting him know that she thinks about it too. "You won't catch me judging her. Pot meet kettle."

His mouth drops open.

She realizes that she's basically said she's going to marry him.

_Be Honest_

The waiter approaches at just that moment with the wine list and his easy rundown of the specials. Kate chooses a fish that sounds fresh and light, not really listening to the rest of it, still watching Rick's reaction to her perhaps ill-timed comment.

She meant it, but maybe that wasn't what he was talking about, and now that she replays his initial statement, it could have been simply referring to himself and the woman who 'helped' him so much when Alexis was little and he was newly divorced.

Oh.

Well.

Too late now.

She fiddles with the knife at its setting, and casts her eyes away from him. The restaurant is full, and they do get a few looks, sidelong glances, and even though there are a number of famous people - New York City famous, like Castle himself in his best moments - she's still glad they came.

It's a good test, but more than that, she wanted him to take her out. She wanted to hold hands with him in the cab in a beautiful dress and watch the streetlights ease across his face as the car moved through traffic, her body pressed close to his black velvet dinner jacket. She wanted his fingertips at the small of her back as they entered the restaurant, and his light touch at her neck - just as she imagined it - and the soft regard in his eyes as he sat at the table with her.

She wanted those things, and she loves the elegance around them, and loves even more that Castle looks so proud to have her here, and she wishes she maybe hadn't let it go to her head and come out her mouth.

The waiter disappears and Rick lays his hand over hers on her knife, imploring with a touch. She glances over at him.

"No one would possibly think it of you, marrying up. It's definitely me. The whole world can see you far outclass me."

She lets out a breath and smiles back at him, a little desperate in her gratefulness, and she curls her fingers around his thumb. "I don't know, Rick. You _are_ considered the white whale."

His face goes blank. "The what?"

She laughs, sitting up straighter. "You don't know?"

"Know what? As in Ahab's white whale?"

She can't help herself. She leans into him at the so-intimate table, and she softly kisses his cheek. "You don't know at all, do you? That's kind of adorable. Yes, like Moby Dick, you've been the elusive catch."

"Oh," he huffs, frowning. "I'm a catch."

"Remember the charity gala you-" She wriggles her fingers at him. "-arranged for us to go undercover at?"

He grins. "I sent you a dress."

"Yes, you're rather insufferable," she murmurs, bumping his shoulder with hers. Their fingers tangle, and she knows she's giving the eyes in the restaurant a lot to gossip over, but she doesn't even care. "The woman who was organizing things, that's what she called you. The white whale of the charity circuit. Most eligible bachelor."

"Ah," he says, and she thinks she sees a blush at his neck. "I did have to put them all off."

"But I always thought it made you the loneliest whale," she whispers.

And she touches his clean-shaven cheek with her fingers and guides herself to his mouth for a kiss.

_Be Together_

She can feel his pulse beating. He tastes like love.

"Can't keep your hands off me?" he murmurs. "Don't get me wrong. I like it. But I thought we said we'd keep it subtle."

She caresses down his cheek and then pats it, a little condescending, but he deserves it every now and then, just to keep his ego in check. She did, after all, just kiss him rather lovesickly in front of the whole room.

And he's puffed up rather proudly about it.

"You've never heard of the loneliest whale?" she murmurs.

He chuckles, then stops as he glances at her, realizes she's not making a joke. "No?"

"For the last couple decades, the Navy has recorded a whale song coming in at 52-hertz-"

"The Navy?" He raises an excited, curious eyebrow.

"Their hydrophones detect enemy submarines. They've recorded the lone song of a whale at a higher register than all other whales, a frequency none of them use. It appears around August or so, and tracks up and down the Pacific, as far south as California, until about February. It's the only source of that call, and researchers have no idea what species it is. It's - one of a kind."

"Loneliest whale in the world," he echoes.

She squeezes his hand. "Yeah. I used to think - well, not at the beginning, perhaps, but the last year or so. Maybe longer, when I knew you, what lies beneath. You seemed - one of a kind, Rick. And yes, lonely. You put up a good front, but you care. And I don't know that I've met anyone who wanted so badly to do good in the world, to matter. That's what I love."

He looks completely overwhelmed.

She lifts their tangled fingers and kisses the heel of his hand. "Because the whale's call is at 52-hertz, no one else can hear him. And that always made me sad. But then again, he never gives up. The Navy records his song every year, without fail, and it's grown deeper and more mature over the years."

"Is this still about me?" he says gruffly. His eyes look very bright blue.

"No," she says, softly shaking her head. "Because I heard you. And you're not alone."

_Behave_

He looks like he might actually do something really embarrassing, but instead the waiter presents the wine and they're forced into the whole routine of accepting the vintage and swirling the first splash and Castle approving.

She has to put her hands in her lap to keep from touching him, but she finds them straying anyway. Laying her palm on his knee, rubbing her thumb over the wide flare of his quad muscle at its insertion point above his patella. She feels a twitch in what she thinks is the sartorious, and it's somehow entirely erotic, the flex of strength under her hand.

He gives her a sidelong look intended to check her, but it has the opposite effect. She feels flustered and overwarm, and she loves the way his body leans towards her at the table.

She swallows a sip of wine and savors it, impressed when Castle keeps a careful distance between their shoulders. She takes his lead and leaves his knee, putting her hands back into her lap. Tucked. Demure. Safe.

He lets out a long breath and gives her a shaky smile.

"Didn't mean to break you," she murmurs softly.

He doesn't even laugh, just twists his lips and tilts his head, and that means she's closer to the truth than she meant to be.

Kate sits up a little straighter, but she reaches out and squeezes his arm. "Thank you for taking me to dinner."

He quirks a smile her direction. "Any time. Though I might not survive it."

"When we get home, I'll show you just how thankful."

He groans and drops his head, bowing over his place setting, and she only laughs, softly so no one else hears, and lightly kisses his shoulder.

"Head up, 52. You're not alone in that either."


End file.
